I went to the Geelong Writers monthly social meeting at the Box Office Cafe this evening … I am back home, It’s 10.30pm, I’m tired, my computer is “duck muck” again, so I thought I would a reblog of this ‘appropriate’ poem before I hit the sack
I am ecstatic that my poem âLines To Nowhereâ, has been accepted and published in Spillwords Magazine today, and I am very grateful to the editor Dagmara for selecting my piece ⌠Please go over and visit my poem at Spillwords and if you wish, leave a đ for my article, by clicking on this link >>
Another covid/isolation poem from March 2020, although my revised version here is almost a complete rewrite. Good news, today Imade a small but noticeable improvement
Boy in a Bubble (Revised)
Iâm living inside a bubble, unable to flee
Shadows are drifting away from me
Shivering silhouettes are beyond arms reach
Iâm an isolated grain of sand from yesterdayâs beach
Iâm sleeping alone within my crazy daydreams
Thinking of life and wishing to be with my honey and cream*
This commonwealth of man has isolated the birds and bees
Now Iâm sleepwalking, toward the forestâs hugging tree
I came across this poem of mine today, a piece I wrote back in January 2019, while I was in hospital recovering from my 2nd stroke … maybe my dreams and visions were at bit blurred … but maybe they weren’t …
Hear The Thunder
My tired voice is crying out, âthereâs no time to wait !!â
The people are pleading fromwithin their breastplates
We need to hear the thunder of peace bells ringing
Ringing to the crescendo of peace doves singing
The chimes are loud and clear
Loud enough for the universe to hear
Even through white marble walls
Youâll hear the thunder of the peace bells fall
We are gathering in every backyard
Every church hall
Every city street
Every farmers paddock
Every heavenly peace dove is escaping
You will see the doves flying high above
Even through the towers of tinted glass
Youâll see the peace doves soar
Even through their white marble walls
Theyâll hear the thunder of the peace bells fall
Even through their towers of tinted glass
Theyâll hear the crescendo of the peace doves call
Lately I have been reading the poems I wrote while I was hostpital 4 years ago, recovering from 2 strokes that had occured only 7 weeks apart. Needless to say, I was down and out, and looking back through my writings during those difficut months, I am both surprised and fascinated at how I was able cope and still managed to produce so many emotion pieces from the confines of my hospital bed. Todays poem âIâm A Dreamerâ, as is my way, has been slightly revised.
Iâm A Dreamer(Revised)
I am here on a hospital bed, lifeâs not quite right
Todayâs window, is out of sight
I sense that the sun did rise and the day is now alight
Answering the sky, Iâm a dreamer of the night
Morning thoughts of the day ahead, within this quiet
I could be in the park, flying my orange kite
Under a cool verandah, riding my silver bike
On the surf beach, cleansing myself of this blight
Lying on warm sand, sunbathing my body beyond white
Reality strikes, Iâm here waiting for the next testâs bite
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 